


Difficult Affection

by ShiningCas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Affectionate Dean, Angst, Blood, Broken Dean, Crowley?, Demons!!!!!, Demons?, Hell Flashbacks, Hell Traumas, Hiatus, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Going to Hell, I'm so sorry, John's A+ Parenting, Language, Lucifer?, M/M, Mentioned Punishment, My First Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester Fanfic, Secretive Cas, Secretive Dean, Secretive Sam, Self-Hatred, So much angst I'm so sorry, Torture, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform, Worry, because duh hell, i'm trash, mentioned breakdowns, so many secrets ohmygood, yes I'm talking about Dean here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-06 14:40:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5420900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShiningCas/pseuds/ShiningCas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean always thought he deserved to go to hell for how he felt for his brother. All these years of pretending and enduring were more than enough for him. But when a certain angel raised him from perdition Dean's hell only just started. Sam is determined to help Dean whatever it takes. Cas shares his help. In his own special way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dream Me.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello-Mellow dear readers! 
> 
> I had lots and lots of doubts as to wether publish stuff or not. And since I lack professional English my subconsciousness always knew to drag me down by telling me I'm not good or creative enough. Today I decided to change all of this (thanks to @pod7et where you all are going to go and read her stories, like, now) and publish my very first SPN-fanfiction.  
> I'm super anxious about it but also excited and, well.... anxious. 
> 
> Planned are a couple more chapters because I suck at drabbles and need a ton shit to explain stuff sooo... I just don't know yet how long it'll take me. I somehow look forward to that and apologize in advance for any hiatus-looking time gap. 
> 
> As already said english is nothing I am capable of, so maybe some parts of this or the upcoming chapters won't make much sense, so if that's the case pleeease inform me, I'd love to improve the story and my writing style as well with your help.  
> I got a weird interpretation of things sometimes and even weirder ideas for fictions, I hope we can all become great friends :>

* * *

 

„Dean…“ He hears faintly his name being called as a heavy hand is put each on his shoulder and neck and he tries to react. “Dean…do you hear me? Dean, please open your eyes.” He tries to answer that faint and familiar voice so badly. ‘I hear you. I can hear your voice but please don’t shake me like that. It hurts.’  
Slowly and painfully he opens his eyes and sees the darkened frame of his brother’s face hovering over him and looking awfully concerned at him. It’s night, he guesses stupidly. But then why is it so bright behind his brother?

“Oh, thank god, you’re alive.” 

“S-Sammy? What happened?” his voice cracks uncomfortably, he even tastes blood on his tongue, and his eyes roam over his face as he oddly just realizes the bloodstains that cover his delicate young face. He must have hurt his head badly because blood is leaking from a dark wound on his forehead and wet lines cover his cheeks as if he just cried, but why is he covered in mud? He tries to move a hand to his face and clean off an especially dirty spot on his soft cheek which he finds weirdly annoying. How can he be more concerned about the dirt than the blood running down his face? He can’t control his thoughts. He just has to wipe off his cheek so bad.

“Dean, don’t move. Don’t move. See? I’ll clean off that dirt for you. It’s okay.” Sammy hastily wipes his cheek clean and tries to smile, a hand still resting on Dean’s neck.

“How did you kno-…”

“Dee, I’m a good boy, you said it yourself.” Sammy carefully kneels in between Dean’s open legs and looks him in the eyes. “I obey and do you good, and I attempt to do so for a long time.” He extends the last words teasingly and moves closer to him until he breathes on Dean’s lips. The atmosphere around them changes all of a sudden and there’s the tension between them he sometimes experiences as uncomfortable and arousing when he’s alone with him, just this time much more intense. No, feeling this way is not right.

“I’ll make you feel so good, Dee.” He whispers, looks him in the eyes and cups his dick through the dirtied jeans, moving it steadily. It’s as if he reads his mind and proves him it's all right. What is going on? That’s not the Sammy he knows, doing such an inappropriate thing.

“S-Sammy, what are you doing?” He breathes in sharply but gasps at the sudden jolt of pain crossing his body by doing so. A couple ribs are probably broken along with his right leg and arm and countless bruises cover his body, regarding the fact that he totally can’t move. He feels Sammy’s lips caressing along his jaw, nibbling on his earlobe softly – that little part of his body which makes him turn into jelly, very much to his disadvantage – and adds pressure on his clothed cock, earning from Dean a breathy moan. “S-Sa-…” That’s not Sam. It can’t be. He doesn’t kno-…

“Oh, I know what you have secretly been wanting the whole time, Dean. You think I’m blind?” Young Sam laughs breathily and looks amusingly at him. “No, I know everything. I just really like to tease you, Dee.” He says his loved nickname with so much lust in his voice that Dean’s mind almost drowns with affection. And that hand just won’t stop moving. “These side glances you give me when we walk next to each other, full of desire and longing? How your eyes roam all over my body when you think I’m not paying attention to you?” he laughs jolly. “How you touch me whenever you’re concerned about me and your hands linger on me for a moment or two longer? Oh Dean, I know everything. I know it all. And you know what? I was dying with anticipation and wondered ‘when will you finally make the first move?’ I was dying to touch you like how I am now. You just never see it.” He kisses his neck a couple of times on different spots and moves on to his lips, stopping right in front of them. Dean’s arousal is unbearably hard by now and throbs against Sammy’s hand mercilessly, now that he’s heard the confession unable to control his actions or feelings anymore, not that he could anyways. He feels like he's tied up.

“Sam. S-Stop it.” He tries to at least free himself with words when he can’t move but Sam isn’t even listening. No, he’s too caught up expressing his burning feelings and thoughts as to stop. Dean doesn’t want to hear or feel all of this. He really doesn’t.

“But you know you’re a perv, Dee. Having feelings for your own little brother. And as much as you’d like to turn it off, you can’t. And you’d never ever forgive yourself if you’d do something filthy to me. I’m your little brother and still so young! That’s what you told yourself back then over and over again, didn’t you?” He bends his head lightly to the side and looks at him with a straight face. “My own pervert brother had to keep his pervert brain busy with girls to not get all over his little, naïve, fragile little brother. These poor girls. But what are you gonna do about the thoughts you have now? I’m all grown up now, Dee.” He sees Sam’s features slowly change to the present-Sam and he smiles at Dean confidently. “Oh, Dee, I know you so well you’d be surprised.” An earnest smile creeps up his face and he stops his large hand on his crotch earning a gasp from Dean. The heat he experiences tortures him and almost doubles the pain between his legs and on his body. It’s almost unbearable. And what he tells him, oh, all the things he tells him! It’s like he gets punched in the stomach with every new sentence. He knows, it’s all wrong but it feels so damn right!

"Stop this, Sam. S-Stop, please." He desperately tries to find something in Sam's eyes that could convince him there's something real in the Sam in front of him but there's nothing he recognizes. Sam still doesn't listen. Or just doesn't care.

“Stop dreaming about the young version of me, Dean. Why dreaming of the past when you can have the present? I’m all yours, Dean.” He grins slyly and adds again pressure on his crotch. He knows exactly what the actions and the talk do to Dean, so he moves his fingers over the tip of his crotch and massage him to his release, his voice as sweet as honey. “Take me, Dee.” These three words are barely a breathing on his lips but they’re enough to bring Dean over the edge of ecstasy once and for all, the wave of lust hitting him hard. He pants heavily and closes his eyes instinctively, ignoring every pain. How much he hates himself.

Before he has the chance to sort his thoughts and press his lips against Sam’s out of need and longing the surroundings change drastically and he sees his brother being chained on a dirty wall by invisible hands, around them tall blood smeared walls with chains hanging ankle and head-level. The anxiety is doubled as sulfur creeps up his nose. They’re in hell. 

“Sam!” 

He manages to scream his brother’s name as he sees cuts opening the skin all over his body, earning ear-defeating screams from his little brother but he still can’t move. 

“Make it stop! Dean! Stop feeling this way! DEAN! It’s hurting me!” the chains jolt as Sam tries to free himself almost aggressively, fear and desperation marked all over his face when he searches in Dean’s eyes for help but the metal turns silent abruptly when Sam stands right in front of him all of a sudden, eyes turning pitch black. “You make me rot.” 

He stares at these goddamn demon eyes blankly without saying a word. He’s unable to speak. Unable to move or think. Dean Winchester is trapped in his own fears and desires and sees no chance of escape. There is none, for that he’s been wandering in this labyrinth for way too long. 

“You destroyed me!!” he feels an iron-tight grip on his throat without Sam having to touch him and he wriggles for air, never losing sight of the eyes. The pain in his chest is unbearable at this sight. He must despise him so much. “You know what? I do! You destroyed me with your dirty love, so that’s why I’m going to destroy you.” Sam laughs triumphing, tightens the grip farther more around his throat and Dean’s vision goes black.

He’s done with fighting. 


	2. Touch Me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for my crappy writing since there's no beta (yet) and I just feel so lazy to re-read it more than a hundred times to correct any mistakes.  
> For the huge gap of publishing I feel also sorry. 
> 
> Soo, anyways, here's the second part of wincest I've had my brains on for soouw long. Any mistakes of grammar errors or unlogical situations are gladly accepted to be corrected. *weird smilie face*  
> Oh and another thing; I partially use made up rooms for the bunker so it might not be the same as you know it from the show. Jus' sayin'. 
> 
> ENJOY :D

Dean snaps his eyes open and immediately shots up from the bed, gripping his own throat in alarm – after whatever made him feel the godawful choking thing so damn realistic he just has to check it everything is alright. His frantic pants echo through the walls and come back at him, reminding him how fragile he must look right now. 

It wasn’t real. 

It was just a dream. 

Just a dream. 

He closes his eyes and tries to calm down, tries to catch his breath again and ignore the uncomfortable (and reasonably unneeded) sticky sensation between his legs instead. He strokes over his slightly sweaty face with the flats of his hands and sighs out heavily. 

How much he hates these dreams. No, he despises them, like demon Sam despises him. Maybe his Sammy would too if he’d find out.  
No, he won’t, Dean won’t let that happen. He won’t risk his brotherly relationship – the only valid relationship that remained in Dean’s life – to crush in million pieces and sink into the depths of hell from where he came because of his foolish feelings. They’ll go away someday. They just have to. 

He shakes his head, rubs his face with the hands once more and looks at the ceiling. He needs to stop think about it, once and for all. He should think about the achievement from yesterday instead. It’s been a long time since they succeeded in a case as a team and he should be proud of himself and Sam for doing so great. Maybe that’s the sparkle of hope he was searching for so long as a sign that everything will be fine again. Maybe he finally found the right path to get rid of these unorthodox feelings and be a normal brother again with normal responsibilities. As much as the meaning ‘normal’ can be put together with a Winchester. He literally clung to that thought.  
He sighs out, stands up and silently walks through the hallway to the kitchen to get himself something to drink, paying attention to be as quiet as possible to not wake up his brother (it’s 3AM after all). He wouldn’t want to disturb him in his sleep after the exhausting day they had. He deserves it. At least him. 

Dean is so much in thoughts that he missed to hear a faint wind-beat as he got out. 

The bunker became his home, a place where he can shut himself off whenever he can take neither the physical nor mental weight anymore and drink himself to unconsciousness. He can openly suffer on his own in his room without concerning his loved ones and he’s damn grateful for that.  
Yeah, sure, maybe Sam and Cas know his distress and worry about his mood swings he has more often lately since he got taken out of hell but they don’t know the real background of his behavior. Sam has given up to ask long ago and Cas never even asked. Maybe he just didn’t care in the first place such as a dick of an angel as he is. 

He casually opens the fridge, takes out one of the plenty bottles of water and empties half of it in a short amount of time. He had no idea he’s this thirsty.  
After closing the fridge, he takes a seat on one of the cozy wooden chairs in the kitchen and takes a long breath. His clothes stick on him like a second skin because of all the sweating from that awful dream. God damned. He mentally writes down on his to-do-list to take a silent as possible shower before going to bed again.  
He has endured almost twenty years of dreams he shouldn’t have and they may or may not ended bad. After the first couple years of accustoming to his weird likings it was all half the trouble. He felt extremely uncomfortable hanging around with his little brother of course but he started to blame it all on the uncontrollable hormones of his teenage days saying that he thought about inappropriate stuff when his mind actually knew nothing but his little brother. He put all his sweat and blood in the attempt to feel guilty for how he felt and what he’s been dreaming but deep down he knew better. He enjoyed the thoughts and dreams too much for his own good. There were the ones that ended good and then the ones that ended real good very much to his liking and misery at the same time. He still managed to make distance to Sam more than he actually wanted to though. He was afraid of any wrong move he might do on him, that much of knowledge he had even at his young age. It’s socially unacceptable to be lusting over family, he knew so much. But it’s unacceptable on a whole new level when lusting over family while being in hell. Because that’s what started happening since a certain angel raised him from perdition. As if having forbidden dreams about his own brother wasn’t awful enough. It started with the torture, punishing himself and him or simply enjoying the sight of a very submissive little brother. His dreams and personal life were unofficially out of control. The only thing that saved him from losing total control of himself were the professional poker faces he used in their job to keep Sam away from him. It works partially tho. 

Standing up from the chair, he makes his way to the mini bar far back in the library and fills himself a glass full of the best Whiskey they have in the bunker, not bothering to turn on other lights since having the lighting in the kitchen is enough. 

He takes a good gulp.

Sam will hate him so much when he finds out about his filthy thoughts. He would run miles away from him, disgusted and not wanting to do anything with him anymore. It’d be worse than dying for Dean. Why is he thinking about it again? 

He takes another gulp. He needs to forget. 

Why is he in love with the only family he has? 

He takes another sip. 

Why can he not turn off these feelings? 

Another sip. 

It’s far past three in the morning. 

Another one. 

He has a real problem with alcohol, too. 

He tilts away the whole glass in one go and leans with the hands on the counter. 

They never kissed. 

He stares emotionless into the many bottles in front of him. 

They nev-…

Before he can think of his actions the glass meets the wall with such a force some pieces come back flying at him, cutting his bare skin in the process.  
They never kissed in his dreams for good, why is this bothering him so much then? This is not what he wanted to think about tonight, for god’s sake!  
He hears heavy footsteps walking hastily through the hallway and he has to sigh out again. Damned. Great job, Dean. You did exactly what you were trying to avoid. He tries to calm down a bit and swallow that incredible hatred towards himself, so he takes another glass and pours some liquid in it, just as the lights go on. 

“Dean?” He turns automatically his head around and sees a sleep-drunk Sam leaning on the doorframe and looking at him concerned. “You alright?”  
He is lost for a moment at that view before he frowns. He shouldn’t look, damn it. 

“Why are you up?” He sees him walking towards him and automatically turns a step to the side, remembering suddenly his little problem down under and shifts away from him. Not good, there must be still a little stain from the dream he had. 

“Because of this, silly.” Sam points at the spot where the shards of glass lay on the ground and eyes him critically. “Had a bad night again?” His features soften and he puts that concerned and sorrowful mask again. Dean looks away and rises his glass towards Sam signaling him the only possibility for drowning all of his problems. It wouldn’t help to look him in the eyes now. Not now. 

“Yeah, nothing new.” He drinks the glass empty and eyes the ground. “Go back to sleep, I’m going to clean this mess up.”  
He doesn't realize how Sam moves towards him due to his many options he goes through in his head as to how to avoid having to face Sam fully. Maybe if he would kneel down and start collecting the broken glass pieces Sam would go back to sleep? He should better go to the kitchen first to get a rag and a bucket and then kneel down. Over the broken glass pieces of course. He also should pour himself something to drink again, his nerves are kind of freaking out. He really doesn’t want him to see the awkward stain on his shorts. But out of nowhere his thoughts get interrupted almost immediately as two hands force him to face his little brother by his shoulders and he feels a second later a warm hand on his cheek. His heart skips a huge beat unintentionally at the touch and he looks up meeting Sam’s eyes, the only movement he’s capable of at the moment. Is he dreaming again? He feels how the thumb slowly and carefully caresses over a spot on his cheekbone (probably a cut), leaving a hot trail behind and after a long second more he withdraws the hand again as if he got burnt but their eyes never leave each other. Dean feels an all too familiar hotness rush through his body but remains silent. He had more than enough practice in using a poker face. There’s nothing unusual he can recognize in Sam’s eyes either, or is it? He really isn’t dreaming? 

“Good night.” Sam eyes him for a moment longer before turning around and leaving the library, leaving also a hot and bothered Dean behind. 

Without thinking he grabs the bottle and empties a good amount of it without flinching. The liquid violently burns its way down his throat but it doesn't help him calm down. 

He thinks about smashing that bottle, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are there too much words that shouldn't be words? hahah~ I feel like that sometimes :P  
> Thanks for coming this far with me. If you liked it I'd be very glad of that because my self-esteem is very lowwww. 
> 
> Next chapters will come sooner than I hope XD *peace out*


	3. Rest Me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *crawls out from under a rock slowly*  
> Heyy theere! 
> 
> I apologize deeply for the huge delay of each chapter. I have so many excuses you can actually just think one of yourself and it is that excuse I want to tell, it's me. 
> 
> But here it is! the latest chap! I hope you enjoy it at least a little ^____^v  
> (to everyone who's come to read this, I love you!) 
> 
> Here we go~

Past 

“Dad, let’s take a break.” He took a daring look at his father behind the wheel and looked back where his brother was curled on the back seats, sleeping under Dean’s leather jacket. “I mean you’ve been driving for 16 hours only stopping for gas. Let me drive, or at least let’s make another break. You look tired.” 

“You don't have to worry about me. There’s an important case in Michigan. If we don’t hurry more people get killed. We’re almost there.” Dean saw his father gripping the wheel a little tighter, eyes stern on the road and he knew he shouldn’t talk any more about this.  
It might seem like a normal concern but their father developed the habit to let his anger or frustration out freely and acted unusually twisted when times were really tough. He usually let all that anger out on the boys. That day was once again such a day.  
Dean was worried. They almost got killed on a case a few weeks ago because of their father’s temper, his Sammy got hurt and Dean still blamed himself for it. If only he could have protected him better. He only had yet to find out how much their father was obsessed with finding the demon who killed their mother. He had yet to find out that the diary their father kept writing in it was full of dark secrets. He always kept it with him even in his sleep and Dean started to wonder why.  
Their father’s obsessiveness led them to many traps that almost cost them their lives over and over again and this evening was once again one of them. 

 

It was a Tuesday August night in 1997. Dean looked out the window. The sky was garnished with thousands of stars, the moon big and full and Dean’s mind wandered again to Sam on the back seats. He couldn’t help it. He always thought of Sam, even at the most inappropriate times. Yes, he meant even during sex with girls and it was extremely embarrassing to even think about it afterwards. But he couldn’t help it.  
Shuffling noises were heard on the back and Dean turned around, smiling softly. 

“Rise and shine, sunshine.” He said jokingly. Sam rubbed his eyes sleepily and looked at him with a pouty-like face. God, that cuteness. 

“I don’t feel like a sunshine. Shut up.” He muttered with a foggy voice and wrapped the – for him too big – jacket around his shoulders to try to keep that cozy warmth for a little longer. As already said, cute. “Are we there yet? I’m hungry.” 

“I got you the sweets you like so much last time we stopped at the gas station. They’re in the bag.” He pointed at the ground and smiled brighter as Sam started to search for them, trying to hide his excitement but Dean knew better. He loved them way too much as to not show emotions over his adolescence-rebel-stage.  
Sam was so reserved back then, more than they were accustomed already and it made Dean restless and anxious. He was constantly afraid of Sammy and their dad to find out about that ridiculously strong affection he felt for his little brother. He knew even back then that something wasn't right about his feelings but didn’t yet put it on the big clock and he was yet enough cautious to hide them to not get into any unnecessary trouble. 

“An hour still. Then we can find a place to stay and go eat somewhere. At a steak house, maybe.” He heard their dad say with a cold voice as a form of encouragement, Dean hoped to guess as he looked at Dean for a moment with an unusual expression, fixing then the road again. He didn’t understand back then that their father got also a fan of sarcasm and actually made them eat junk food again to “save money for more important stuff like guns”. Dean was okay with double cheeseburgers with extra bacon, not so much Sam. 

“Awesome, dad!” Dean beamed at him like he didn’t in a while, not bothering his mood swings and looked excited back at Sam, who mimicked Dean’s answer by muttering his words mockingly with a weird face. "Shut up!” he slapped his little brother’s arm lightly and shook his head in a playful annoyance, earning a slap from him on his hand in return. 

“You boys, stop it.” John looked at the reverse mirror for a second or two longer, attempting to get eye contact with his younger son and warn him of his misbehavior but Sammy was more focused in teasing Dean and making grimaces at him as to care what his father wanted from him.  
That unfocused moment of their dad behind the wheel was what it took for them to be surrounded by a black thick fog unnoticed. As he tried to focus on the road again it was too late – neither he or Dean could prevent the next fateful event to happen.  
A truck drove by with an unusual pace from the left on the crossroad the Winchester were headed to and crashed dead on at the car pushing it several hundred feet off the road. The car was a wreck and the Winchesters unconscious. The truck was on fire in an instant. 

After what felt like two seconds – it could’ve also been two hours, Dean couldn’t tell– he woke up due to that concerned voice calling out for him repeatedly and looked around, his condition a dizzy and painful mess. It’s so bright somewhere in the distance but it felt so near and warm. Dean wasn’t sure he knew where he was but he knew he’s leaning rather uncomfortable on something hard, maybe a tree. 

“Oh, thank god, you’re alive.” He recognized the darkened frame of his younger brother’s face and coughed out painfully. His whole body ached miserably at this action. The doctor later said he had some broken ribs including a broken arm and leg, several internal injuries and countless bruises all over his body. It was a miracle he was awake at all. 

“Sammy… wh-what happened?” his voice cracked uncomfortably. He looked at him with half-lidded eyes and tried to get his dry mouth wet again, tasting blood on his tongue instead. At least it’s wet. 

“Dean! Dean, don’t close your eyes! We had an accident and got hit by a truck. I dragged you and dad out of the car somehow in fear the car might explode. Dean, look at me! I called the ambulance, they’re gonna be here any minute. You need to stay awake!” 

“S-Sammy. You’re bleeding.” He tried to lift his arm and touch Sam’s bloodstained and wet face but a painful sting prevented him from doing so and he hissed in pain. “Ow.” 

“Dee, don’t move. I’m fine, Dee. I’m the only one who’s somehow fine. Dad is still unconscious and all bloody. It’s horrible. Dee, I’m terrified. Please, at least you need to stay awake.” He sobbed silently as thick tears fell down his cheeks. Dean tried to lift his other arm and laid his hand softly on his cheek, trying to soothe away his worry with one touch only. 

“I’m okay, Sammy. I-I’m glad you’re okay, too.” He whispered and smiled lightly at him, rubbing absently a thumb over that soft skin. He didn’t realize Sammy's next moves until he felt his body almost crushing him. He was hugging him.  
Sammy trembled over him and gripped his shirt tightly and Dean tried to endure the pain all over his body, tried to say nothing and just savor that very intimate moment of their unusual closeness. His heart throbbed in his hurt chest and he let out a shaky breath to let the tension out. 

“I don’t want you to die, Dee.” He whispered shakily and looked at him with so much fear and concern like he’s never seen on him before.  
The ambulance was heard from the distance.

“I won’t. And dad won’t either. I promise.” He smiled for a second that sheepish smile of his and muttered an “I love you, Sammy” meaning it with all of his heart while shutting slowly his eyes and falling into the darkness. 

“Dee!” 

That was the only time he’s ever said these words to him. 

\- - - 

Present

The sun’s shining high over the roofs of the houses as Dean wakes up and slowly and heavily opens his eyes. What a night. 

“Hello, Dean.” It takes him a couple of seconds to comprehend who that voice belongs to because of that heaviness that presses on his brain but when it finally makes klick he sits up immediately and looks with big eyes at the only angel who could ever make his entrance with these two very words. 

“Cas! What are you doing here??” He grabs the blanket next to him and wraps it around himself, feeling oddly nude otherwise even though he is clothed in his usual sleeping clothes. How the hell did he get into bed in the first place? He doesn’t remember. 

“I need to talk to you. The both of you. It’s important. I’ll wait for you in the library. Sam is already up and waiting.” With that Castiel disappears with a faint beat of wings. Dean needs a moment again to understand what just happened and looks around confused. What did he just say? He needs to talk to them? To both of them? So, that means he has to face Sam, right? He recalls the scenes from the morning before he got stupidly drunk and sighs out repressed. Man, that was so embarrassing. After that little incident happened, Dean did indeed clean up the mess he made and took a shower afterwards to clear his mind but it helped as much as-…. Yeah, it didn’t help at all. So he started to drink again because that surely always helped (it didn’t). And after that he has no idea what happened.  
His hand wanders to his cheek without thinking about it and he sighs out again. But seriously, what was that about? He wasn’t drunk enough to just imagine it, that’s for sure. A strange shudder runs through his body and he immediately stands up remembering that Cas and Sam are waiting for him. There is nothing to be embarrassed about. He’s his brother and he got really worried about him this morning. He needs to get it together, for god’s sake. Or his. 

So he goes with heavy steps to Sam and Cas. 

“Well, hello there, sleepyhead. I made you some coffee to soothe that headache you probably have. Man, you look terrible.” Sam looks up from the laptop and frowns slightly. Cas only watches him emotionless and silently at the other end of the table. Dean takes a seat in front of the mug and tries to find a probably pathetic excuse for the mess he is without making eye contact (of course). 

“What can I say, our success needed to be celebrated. And since you didn’t want to join I celebrated by myself.” He grins shortly and chokes then on a gulp of his coffee. So hot. 

“Dude, you were the first to go to bed after we came home from the hunt. And in the middle of the night you woke up from whatever shitty dream you had and started drinking like an addict. Seriously, this needs to stop, or no pies for you in the future.” Again, he chokes on his coffee. 

“W-What?” 

“Guys, please, we have a serious problem to deal with.” Castiel starts with an unusual sharp tone in his voice and both brothers look up at him. 

“Why? What’s wrong?” Sam asks concerned. Cas hesitates for a moment and looks around in thoughts. 

“To make it short and painless, Lucifer is on the loose. And he has company with him. A lot of company.” Cas turns away and looks terrified up the ceiling. 

“What? Didn’t we recently lock him in the cage again? How is that possible?” Sam looks concerned from Dean to Cas and leans back stiff in the chair. 

“I don’t know. But he’s out again and opened the gates of hell, again. He’s amongst innocents with so many demons we can’t even imagine and that is concerning.” 

“We’re all screwed, man.” 

“Oh, really? You think so, squirrel?” All three of them turn to the voice in unison to the former king of hell standing next to the staircase, who has a hand stuck in pocket. “Hello, boys, it’s been a while.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there goes another chapter of my sh**** fiction I started and probably will never finish because I'm a lazy piece of s***. *THUMBS UP* 
> 
> Thank you for reading and leaving kudos (I actually receive kudos wtff???? *sobs*) 
> 
> I'll try this time to upload faster, but you know, all those excuses..... >____>  
> If you feel the growing urge to correct the grammar, the logic, the whatever is bothering you, just shamelessy write me~ :D :D  
> *peace out*


End file.
